


The Flower That Shattered the Stone

by clgfanfic



Series: War of the Worlds - The Next Generation [1]
Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debi and Paul's nephew end up in danger, along with Paul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flower That Shattered the Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published in Code 47-Level 3-Authorization 10 #3, edited by Denise Stoltenberg, then republished in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #13 both under the pen name Gillian Holt.

"I have brought someone to keep you company."

Earth is our mother, just turning around,  
With her trees in the forest, and roots underground…

28 July 1989

The current military commander of the invading Mor'taxan advance force, Xaxalon, approached the three waiting Advocates, the subordinate scientific commander, Xzoyan, following close behind. The military commander was glad the news they carried was positive. Any more delays and Xaxalon was sure he would be asked to perform the same duty required of his predecessors and end his own existence. The Advocates were losing patience – the humans thwarting too many of their plans over the last fourteen months since their awakening.  
"Commanders," the female Advocate acknowledged coldly. "You have good news for us?"  
"Yes, Advocate," Xaxalon replied with a short bow that revealed the tainting influence of his latest Asian host body. "The new bio-agent is ready to be tested on human subjects."  
"Your timing could not be better; we need to report positive progress to Council. They will be pleased," the older of the two male leaders replied. "Have you decided how this test would best be carried out?"  
"Yes," Xzoyan said, her voice echoing in the large underground caverns that served as the aliens' base of operation. "On your orders, we have been studying the various relationships found among the humans. Most particularly, we have found that bonds between parent and offspring differ notably from our own. I would suggest an experiment, first to test the bio-weapon, and second to see if we can manipulate this unusual, primitive bond."  
"And how do you propose to do this… double experiment?" the younger male inquired his dislike for the scientific caste apparent in his condescending tone.  
Xzoyan moved up to stand beside the military commander, a move that angered the male. It was not the scientist's place to take such a bold action. The Advocates, however, said nothing.  
"First," she explained, "we must acquire a sufficient number of test subjects. While any humans would do to test the weapon, if we gather various combinations of the vermin and their offspring, we can also experiment with the bonds they form. Once we understand this better, I am sure we can use the information to our advantage."  
"It is true that the humans value the life of an individual child more than the collective well-being of all their young," the female intoned. "A most barbaric, selfish arrangement."  
"Yes," the older male agreed. "It is a weakness we hoped might be exploited." He turned to the scientist, "You may arrange for such an experiment, scientist." Refocusing on the military leader, he continued. "Commander, you will see that the scientist has all the necessary human subjects."  
Xaxalon nodded.  
"Remember, genetic standards alone do not mark relationships between parent and offspring on this planet," the younger male added.  
"Yes. We will take that into account as well, Advocate. We are nothing without your counsel," Xzoyan said, nodding to the triumvirate.  
"Commanders, be certain that the subjects you acquire are scattered, taken from several different cities. We know the humans are protective of these bonds. We do not want to raise unwanted suspicions that might slow the final implementation of the bio-agent."  
"Yes, Advocate," Xaxalon said, bowing again to the eldest male. "It will be done. To life, immortal."  
"To life immortal," the three alien leaders chorused.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

3 August 1989

Lieutenant Colonel Paul Ironhorse sat at his desk, steadfastly refusing to leave until he finished the latest accumulation of reports marring the otherwise clear surface. Luckily, the other members of the Blackwood Project were also occupied with various facets of their personal expertise. He did not expect to be disturbed.  
Blackwood was busy building theoretical worlds based on their increasing understanding of the Mor'taxans. Using these models and a computer program, the astrophysicist hoped to uncover weaknesses they could use against the invaders. Suzanne was involved in another ongoing secured computer/satellite discussion with a government-funded team of neurologists and genetic engineers at the University of Arizona, debating the possible methods of engineering a radiation-resistant bacteria toxic to the alien's nervous system – McCullough's choice for the creatures' biological weak point. And Norton was in the middle of perfecting a program to break down the alien transmissions into their linguistic components. A cryptology/ linguistics specialist at the Pentagon waited for the results so he could conduct further analyses.  
All in all, a productive and routine day for the humans battling the hostiles who wanted to take over their world.  
The phone rang.  
Snatching up the receiver on the multi-line set, Ironhorse noticed that the call was from the switchboard at Ft. Streeter –their personal emergency number. "Ironhorse here," he said, expecting it to be someone from Whitewood telling them about some turn Sylvia had taken.  
"Paul?"  
Surprise molded itself across the man's sharp features. He hadn't heard from his sister-in-law in several months – in fact, not since he'd called at Christmas time. "Mary?"  
"Thank God I got hold of you," the woman said, relief filling her voice. "I really didn't want to use the emergency number, but—"  
"Mary, what's wrong? Is it Mom?"  
"No, it's Paulie. My son."  
"I know who he is," the colonel said, his anxiety abating slightly. "What happened?"  
"Paulie's left Oklahoma.  
"Why? I mean, is that a problem? He's eighteen now, isn't he?"  
"Not until March, and I don't know why he left. He was supposed to work this summer, here, and get ready for college in the fall. He's just like you, Paul – so bright, and an athlete. He even graduated a year early like you did, and he promised me he'd go to college. All the schools he applied to accepted him, most of them with scholarships. I'm so proud of him… But why didn't he tell me? Paul, what am I going to do?"  
"I don't know. And I'm not sure what I can do, Mary. Do you have any ideas about where he might have gone?"  
"Your mother thinks he's going to California, to see you."  
"Me? Why?"  
"He's talked about meeting you. She thought he'd go to Ft. Streeter, but I guess you haven't seen him?"  
"I'm not at Ft. Streeter."  
"But I called you at the emergency number you gave me there."  
"It's a long story."  
"Paulie doesn't have this phone number. He thinks you're at Ft. Streeter, too. He does have the post office box number you sent us last year. Is that still good?"  
"Yes."  
"Maybe he'll write if he can't find you? I'm just so worried about him. It's not like Paulie to do something like this without telling me or your mother."  
"I'm sure he's all right. Look, I'll see what I can do from this end, but it might not be much. If I find him, I'll call you."  
"Thank you, Paul. You're a good man."  
Ironhorse smiled. There were a myriad of bad memories associated with his childhood and the community he grew up in, but Mary Little Crow had never closed her mind to any of his choices. "You always were more forgiving than the rest. Try not to worry. If Paulie's anything like me, he'll be fine."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Our father above us, whose sigh is the wind  
Paint us a rainbow without any end…

9 August 1989

Paul Michael Ironhorse stood in the cool San Francisco summer afternoon, watching the people who ebbed in and out of the small postal substation. Located near the Presidio, one of several Naval installations in the Bay area, military people were a common enough sight, but he had yet to spot his Army-uncle among them. Paulie watched three young naval officers pass by with a touch of envy in his eyes. Soon, he thought.  
This was his last clue concerning his uncle's whereabouts. The security guard at Ft. Streeter had made it clear that Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse was no longer stationed on the post, and Paulie wasn't going to be allowed in. After arguing with the man for nearly fifteen minutes, the MP surrendered and called the base Locator to see where Ironhorse had been reassigned. To Paulie and the MP's surprise, the information was classified.  
The post office box was the most recent address Ironhorse had sent his mother and grandmother, and Paulie decided he'd simply wait until someone, hopefully his uncle, arrived to pick up the mail. But after three days, it looked to the seventeen-year-old as if no one would ever come. He sighed heavily.  
The arrival of a red Ford Taurus caught the young man's attention and he stood up straighter. He didn't remember seeing that particular vehicle over the past few days. A woman and a girl proceeded into the post office. Watching carefully, Paulie felt his heart hop when they stopped at the box he'd been chaperoning through the glass doors. Opening and removing the contents, the woman smiled at the blonde teenager and they headed back to the car, talking animatedly.  
Moving to his motorcycle, Paulie climbed on and started the engine. When the Taurus pulled away from the curb, he followed it into traffic, being careful to keep at least one car between himself and the pair. When they entered the freeway system, he relaxed slightly – it would be much easier to follow the car and not draw any suspicion under the cover of the afternoon traffic.  
When the Taurus left the freeway, Paulie slowed and continued to trail the pair at what he thought was a discreet distance. Suzanne, however, had seen the motorcycle one too many times in her rearview mirror to feel comfortable. When it continued with them toward the Cottage's main gates, she knew she was being followed. There was absolutely nothing in any direction except their base.  
Reaching over for the mobile phone lying on the dash, she pressed out a number and waited.  
"Hel-lo," came Norton's ever-upbeat voice.  
"Hi, Norton. I have a problem. Is Paul around?"  
"Naw, he's a square," Drake replied, smiling at the man seated next to him. Ironhorse glared.  
The colonel had completed his paperwork earlier that morning, then allowed himself to be talked into testing Norton's latest computer game. The man had promised it would help him relax. Drake was wrong. Ironhorse was getting soundly trounced by the computer expert and jumped at the chance to withdraw from the skirmish with some of his dignity intact.  
He leaned over closer to the speaker. "I'm here, Suzanne. What's wrong?"  
"I'm about five minutes from the gates. I think someone's following us, a man on a motorcycle."  
"Okay, listen, go ahead and pull onto the grounds. I'll have the Omegan on the gate keep an eye on the guy. Don't worry, just get inside as soon as you can, and don't stop."  
"Right. I won't." Suzanne terminated the call and handed the phone to Debi.  
"Mom, why is somebody following us? Is it an alien?"  
"I don't know, sweetheart. I hope not."  
"Me, too. I don't want to move again."  
Suzanne slowed and turned in at the main gates to Government Property #348. Glancing in the mirror, she saw that the motorcycle had slowed so he wouldn't get too close as she made the turn onto the grounds. With a sigh of relief she watched the wrought iron barrier swing closed behind her.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Ironhorse reached the gates at a full gallop. Jerking the gelding to a standstill, he slid from the bay's bare back, once again thankful he'd insisted they keep several horses on the property. The animals covered terrain the cars couldn't travel and did it faster than a man could run. Letting the bay wander off to graze, the soldier made his way silently to join Stavrakos where the sergeant was hidden from view, still watching the motorcyclist.  
"Anything?" the colonel asked.  
"Nothing, sir. He's just been sitting there like that, watching the gate. Think he's looking for the doorbell?"  
Ironhorse snorted, staring at the intruder. The man had not removed his helmet, making it difficult to discern anything concrete. The security expert did know one, it was a man, and two, he had good taste in motorcycles.  
Reaching into his pocket, the colonel removed his radio and keyed the mike. "Red Three, this is Red Leader, do you copy?"  
"Red Leader, this is Red Three, we read you loud and clear. Over."  
"Roger, Red Three. Are you in position?"  
"Affirmative."  
"Good. Stay there in case this guy decides to rabbit. If he does, bring him back."  
"Roger, Red Leader. We'll put the rabbit in the bag."  
Returning the radio to his pocket, Ironhorse patted the sergeant lightly on the back. "Stay here in case he decides to make a try for the gate or walls. I'm going to see if I can get around behind him."  
"Yes, sir," Stavrakos replied. "Good luck, Colonel."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Easing himself up from the dry ground, Ironhorse peered over the small rise to find the man in the same position. Silently the soldier gained his feet and started forward. The trespasser started, then turned to face him.  
"Freeze, mister," Ironhorse barked in his best command voice.  
The man had other plans, lunging for the motorcycle. Ironhorse realized that he'd have to shoot or risk a charge to keep the intruder from escaping. He launched himself, wrapping his arms around the man as he tried to straddle the cycle, carrying them both over the bike and onto the pavement.  
Moving rapidly to subdue the helmeted man before a possible alien third arm could burst free and grab him, Ironhorse spared a momentary thought as to how the guy had heard his approach. That thought was quickly dispelled when the cyclist managed to hook a booted foot over one of the soldier's legs, partially dislodging him from the biker's chest.  
Scrambling to his feet, the man reached up and jerked the chin strap free as Ironhorse pulled the M-9 from its holster.  
"Freeze! Right now!"  
"I'm just taking off this damned helmet!" came the reply.  
"Slow and careful," the soldier commanded, watching the Omegans arrive.  
With a tug on the helmet, Ironhorse found himself looking into a time-shifted mirror image of himself. He let the breath he'd been holding escape as a hiss between his teeth.  
"Your mother's been worried about you."  
"He's clean, sir," Coleman announced, pocketing her Geiger counter.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The Project members met the colonel at the front door of the Cottage, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity.  
"I see you caught him," Blackwood commented, surprised as he realized just how young the intruder was.  
"Yes, Doctor," Ironhorse said, escorting the boy into the house and directly to his office.  
Blackwood, Suzanne, and Norton followed.  
When the officer realized that he'd acquired an audience, he stopped, hands on his hips. "People, the situation is—"  
"Hey, he looks just like you, big guy. You been holding out on us?" Drake asked.  
"He does, doesn't he," Suzanne agreed.  
Paul and Paulie both shifted uncomfortably.  
"Colonel, would you like to explain—?"  
"No, Doctor, I would not. Now, if you would please leave us alone, I have some things I need to discuss with my nephew."  
"That would explain it," Norton said, nodding.  
"It certainly would," Suzanne concurred. She smiled and extended a hand to the young man. "I'm Suzanne McCullough. It's nice to meet you."  
"Thank you," Paulie replied, the texture and tone of his voice echoing the soldier's. "Paul Michael Ironhorse."  
"Gertrude, ahead three," Norton commanded his voice-activate wheelchair, extending his hand as he rolled forward. "Norton Drake."  
"Mr. Drake," Paulie said, grinning in spite of himself in reply to the black man's huge smile.  
"Call me Norton. The colonel does enough 'mistering' for all of us."  
Paulie nodded. "Norton."  
Harrison noted the closed, half-angry expression on their security chief's face, but decided he might as well get in on the conspiracy. It was simply too good an opportunity to let slip by. "I'm Harrison Blackwood – your uncle's boss."  
"Doctor—"  
"Would you like to explain why you followed Dr. McCullough back here from the post office?" Harrison continued, undaunted.  
"I was looking for my uncle. The Locator at Ft. Streeter said he wasn't stationed there anymore. All I had was the post office box number, so I waited until someone came for the mail and followed Dr. McCullough and… her daughter?" he guessed. Suzanne nodded. "Back here."  
"And that's when the colonel jumped you, huh?" Drake asked with a grin.  
"Now that the introductions are over, would you mind letting me get on with this?" Ironhorse asked, his voice growing more impatient.  
"What are you going to do, Paul, interrogate him?" Suzanne asked, immediately dismissing the request. "How long did you watch the post office? We only come in for mail once a week."  
"Three days."  
"Three days?" she echoed, noticing for the first time the rumpled condition of the young man's clothes and the dark circles under his eyes. "When was the last time you ate something and had a full night's sleep?"  
"I'm fine, Dr. McCul—"  
Suzanne rolled her eyes. "Oh, God, it is genetic!"  
"What?" Ironhorse and Paulie asked in unison.  
"That hard-headed-independent-stubborn streak."  
Paulie's eyes narrowed, anger and pain passing through the black depths.  
Noticing the expression, Blackwood laid a hand on Suzanne's shoulder. "Why don't we go let Mrs. Pennyworth know we'll have a guest for dinner. Colonel, when you're finished we'll see you there. Good to meet you, Paul."  
"Thank you, Doctor, we'll join you shortly," Ironhorse said, watching as the threesome left. Once they were out of the office and the door closed behind them, he stalked over to the polished oak desk and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest. "So, Paulie, why are you here?"  
"I wanted to meet you, uncle."  
"I don't understand."  
Paulie snorted, the sound rough and caustic. "I wanted to meet the perfect Paul Ironhorse."  
"Perfect?" The black eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
"You. I'm talking about you, Uncle. All my life, all I've heard is Paul this, and Paul that. Be more like your uncle Paul. Try harder. Do more. Be better. Be just like him, but don't sell out. Your uncle's a white-man's Indian, Paulie, you can't do that."  
Ironhorse ran a hand through his raven-black hair. "Paulie, I—"  
"Didn't know. I know that. I'm just so sick and tired of everyone comparing me to you. Everything you ever did, I had to do. All your awards and honors? I earned them. I did it all, just as well as you did, but no one cared. They expected me to do it. My successes have never been my own, just living up to yours. I'm like some kind of carbon copy, but I can't leave like you did. I'm supposed to stay and redeem you."  
The colonel fought an old hurt as well as a new anger. "I did what I had to."  
"So am I." Paulie paced. "But before I can start, I had to see you. I had to cut the ropes that bind me to you. I'm not you, no matter what anyone says, or wants. What I do is for myself, not because you did it."  
"I wouldn't want it any other way."  
"I'm tired of competing with a ghost."  
"I don't know what to say. I wish I'd known—"  
"What? What could you've done? You're like twins to the family and people in the community – perfect before you left, an anathema after."  
"What you want from me?"  
"Nothing. I just wanted to face you. To see for myself if everything they said was true."  
"I'm not perfect, Paulie."  
The young man looked around the room, reading the modest but impressive symbols of the colonel's illustrious career. "Wrong, Uncle. I think even in the white man's world, you're still perfect. Why else would you be here?"  
With that, Paulie turned and stormed out of the office and the front door, slamming both behind him. Ironhorse grabbed for the phone, punching the intercom to the guest house.  
"Coleman here," came the reply.  
"Sergeant, see to it our guest does not leave."  
"Yes, sir."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Never one to stay mad long, Paulie had already calmed down by the time he reached the parking area at the front of the large house. He sighed and nodded at the two soldiers standing near the guest house. They would not let him leave, but that was all right. He wanted time to cool off and think, then he'd talk with his uncle again.  
Paulie knew that his own frustrations weren't his uncle's fault. Ironhorse hadn't been back to the Cherokee community in Oklahoma except for a brief stay before Paulie was born, and two funerals after that. But the boy's grandmother told him all the stories about his Uncle Paul and the younger Ironhorse grew up with a severe case of hero worship. It wasn't until he reached high school that the constant comparisons started to grate on him. He was his own man, and, like his uncle, he was going to give up his birthright.  
Paulie hadn't planned or expected the revelation, but when he'd gone seeking his own vision he had been rewarded. In his heart the younger Ironhorse knew that what he did would fulfill his own life, his own destiny. That he would also be challenging the legacy his uncle had set for him was only part of the reason he was looking forward to it. He paused, promising himself again that he'd remember to always compete with himself first.  
"Hi. I'm Debi."  
The young man started slightly, turning to find the blonde girl he'd seen at the post office joining him in the parking area. "Hi. Paul Michael Ironhorse, but you can call me Paulie."  
"Are you related to the Colonel?"  
"He's my uncle."  
"I thought so. You look just like him," Debi said, her cheeks turning a pale red. She looked away.  
"So I've heard."  
"Did you come to visit him?"  
"Yes. I wanted to see him before I go to— to school."  
"Cool."  
Paulie smiled, and Debi decided she liked the way it looked. It was slightly crooked, like the colonel's. The young man did look just like the soldier – short black hair, black eyes, and the same features. The only difference was that Paulie was slightly taller than his uncle. She decided 'handsome' summed it up rather well.  
"Do you want to see our lake?" she asked. "It's real pretty and we have a swan."  
"Sure," he replied, "I'd like that."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Where is she now?" Suzanne mumbled after she'd entered the living room, exited through one of the French doors, crossed the patio and re-entered through the second set.  
"You looking for Debi?" Harrison asked, glancing up from the latest astrophysics journal Suzanne had picked up at the post office.  
"Yes, but I can't find her anywhere. She's getting to be as bad as you."  
Blackwood grinned. "She's out wandering the grounds with Ironhorse's nephew."  
"I see," the scientist said, trying to decide if she was comfortable with the idea. Paulie had checked out fine on the radiation and heat detectors. No, it wasn't that…  
It was the girl's crush on Paul that gave her pause. Paulie was a younger, more accessible version.  
Debi knows what's appropriate, Suzanne chided herself. Still…  
"The resemblance is uncanny, don't you think?"  
"Humm," Blackwood concurred. "And did you see that look? Talk about the force and the object."  
Suzanne smiled. "I like him, though. I just don't know if I like him, alone, with Deb."  
"I wouldn't worry. He seems like a very polite young man." Harrison looked up and grinned. "In fact, he reminds me a lot of Ironhorse. But I wonder what our fearless protector's going to do."  
"I'm going to have a long talk with him and see to it he's on his way back to Oklahoma to see his mother before he starts college in the fall."  
Harrison twisted, looking back over his shoulder. "Ah, not fair, Colonel – sneaking up on us like that."  
"I wasn't sneaking, Doctor."  
"Have they gotten back yet?" Suzanne interrupted.  
"Oh, sorry. No. It looked like they were headed for the lake when I saw them," Harrison supplied. "Colonel, I couldn't help overhearing your, uh, discussion, with Paul."  
"Discussion?" Ironhorse walked over to the empty fireplace and rested one hand against the mantel. "I don't know what to say to him. I left Oklahoma for good when I was sixteen and, except for some time with my grandfather after Vietnam, and funerals, I haven't been back. I don't know what people there think, or what they say."  
"You don't keep in touch with your mother?" Suzanne asked, half-teasing.  
"Of course I do. I call. Until I was assigned to this mission, I wasn't in one place long enough to make visits. And when I did, I went to North Carolina. But that's neither here nor there. My mother's family are in Oklahoma, and so is my brother."  
"Well, they obviously have some mixed feelings about your success," Suzanne said.  
"You overheard all that, too, Doctor?" Ironhorse asked.  
"I was with him," she said innocently, nodding to Blackwood. "But I don't understand. I thought it was relatively common for Native Americans to use the military as a way off the reservation, or out of poverty."  
"It is. It's not the military they objected to," Ironhorse explained, automatically censoring himself from revealing too much. "I had to make some difficult choices, and I chose West Point. Some of my family didn't understand why and weren't willing to listen to my reasons. But that's no excuse to take it out on the boy."  
Paul walked over to the open French door and took up an automatic at-ease position as his gaze wandered over the grounds. "Paulie's mother wanted to marry an Ironhorse. When Michael married someone else, she turned her attentions on me, and I almost asked her, but I knew I was going to the Point – and Vietnam. Mary needed stability. I couldn't take her away from her family, her life. My younger brother, John, married her in the spring of '74. It wasn't a popular marriage in the family, but she was already pregnant."  
"Why don't you let him stay a while?" Blackwood suggested.  
"I can't, Doctor. I can't take the chance that he might uncover our mission and compromise the security—"  
"Paul, he hardly seems like the kind to sell secrets to the Russians," she chastised.  
"It's not the Russians I'm worried about, Suzanne. Security here is tenuous at best. The more people who know what we're doing the higher the risk we run that the aliens will find out who and where we are."  
"A day or two can't be too big a risk, Colonel," Harrison said. "I think you owe him that much, don't you?"  
Ironhorse nodded. "Yes, I do. I just hope the aliens cooperate and stay quiet."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"So, why are you and your mom here?" Paulie asked, skipping a flat stone across the still surface of the lake.  
Debi was pretty, and Paulie reminded himself that she was young, too young for a man about to enter West Point in less than a month.  
"She works for the government. So do Harrison and Norton."  
"And my uncle provides their security?"  
"I guess so. I don't really know exactly what the colonel does. Mom's a microbiologist, and Norton has this really big computer. Harrison reads a lot, stands on his head, and stares at candles. He's sort of weird, but I still like him."  
"What are they working on?" he asked, more curious about his uncle than he wanted to be.  
Debi watched another rock skim across the pond, bouncing several times before sinking below the surface. She'd known about the aliens since Mr. Kensington had been killed, but she couldn't tell Paulie about them. She'd given everyone her word to keep the Blackwood Project's mission a secret.  
"It's top secret, and they say I'm just a kid, so they won't tell me anything."  
Paulie nodded, believing her. "I know how that feels."  
"We should go back now. It's almost dinnertime. Mom'll start worrying if I'm late."  
The pair started the hike back, Paulie noting that at least one of the soldiers still shadowed them. His uncle was a careful man. Whatever they were doing, it must be very important, and very dangerous.  
"Are you going to stay here for a while?" Debi asked, the hopeful tone of her voice causing him to smile.  
"I doubt it. I have a lot to do before I start school in September."  
"I wish I was in college. I'm already doing high school stuff, but I have to wait until I'm sixteen to take the GED."  
"You go to school here?"  
"I do now. The colonel says it's too dangerous for me to go to regular high school because of the stuff they do here. It's not so bad, though. Mrs. Pennyworth is real nice, and she lets me stop early if I get all my assignments done. I'm almost done with all my freshman classes now."  
"Don't you miss being around other kids your own age?"  
"I'm not a kid," she complained. "Besides, they're all so…"  
"Silly?"  
"Yeah, I guess so," she said, still angry.  
Paulie nodded. "I'm sorry, Debi, I didn't mean to make you mad. You act a lot older than what? Twelve?"  
"I'll be fourteen in a couple of months. How old are you?"  
"Seventeen," he replied with a grin. So, she was older than he thought. And something about her was familiar, like they'd met. He'd never felt that way around a girl before and it was intriguing. He decided that she was special.  
"You're my age, too."  
"Not a chance, small fry."  
"Small fry? That's silly. Race you back to the Cottage!" she said, bolting before he could reply.  
"Hey! Now who's being silly!" he yelled, chasing after her.  
The pair arrived at the front door in a dead heat, both of them pulling up as it opened to reveal Ironhorse.  
"Hi, Colonel," Debi said, panting to regain her breath.  
Paulie was breathing easily, and one of the soldier's eyebrows rose slightly. The boy was a better athlete than he'd guessed if that run hadn't affected him – and it was to his credit that he hadn't bested Debi.  
"I was just on my way to get you," he told them. "Mrs. Pennyworth has dinner ready."  
"Come on, I'll show you where you can wash up," Debi said.  
"We'll talk again after dinner," he said as Paulie followed her into the Cottage.  
"Okay," the young man replied as he passed by. He stopped and turned back. "I'm sorry about blowing up like that."  
"It's all right. Go get ready, Mrs. Pennyworth is a terror when we're late for supper."  
"Sounds like grandma," the boy replied, trailing after Debi.  
Ironhorse allowed himself a wistful smile. His mother did get upset if they let all her hard work get cold. She was a good women. If his father had been more of a man… If he hadn't hated being an Indian…  
No. There was no use dwelling on the past. It was over. Dead and buried, and that was where Ironhorse intended to leave it.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The conversation at the dinner table quickly became a not-so-subtle questioning of the younger Ironhorse. The colonel knew that all the curiosity about Paulie's past was also a curiosity about his own. And at several moments he wanted nothing more than to stop the inquiry, but he knew better than to try. Besides, Paulie was reasonably careful about his responses.  
"Do you have any brothers and sisters?" Debi asked.  
Paulie nodded. "Half-brother and a half-sister. Josh is eleven and Annie's eight."  
"You have a bigger family than I would've guessed, Paul," Suzanne commented to Ironhorse.  
"I had two brothers and two sisters."  
"And you were in the middle," Norton said matter-of-factly.  
Two black eyebrows rose. "Yes. How did you know?"  
"Guessed," the black man said. "Me, too… sort of."  
"Sort of?" Debi asked.  
"Well, there are six of us. I'm number four." Looking at the soldier, he grinned. "If your family reunions are anything like ours it's like a mall at Christmas time." Both Ironhorse and Paulie looked uncomfortable. "Did I say something wrong?"  
Ironhorse cleared his throat, deciding that these people, who were also family, deserved a little honesty from him. "My older brother, Michael, died many years ago. He and his wife were killed in a car accident while they were still in their teens. My mother raised Michael junior. My older sister and her family were also killed many years ago."  
"And my dad died when I was a kid," Paulie added. "Mom's second husband died four years ago."  
"I'm sorry," Suzanne said. "It must have been hard on your family. Your grandfather was already gone, too, wasn't he?"  
The colonel nodded. "And my father died just after I shipped out for Vietnam."  
The conversation turned to more pleasant topics, the team finding Paulie's academic and athletic achievements amazing.  
"And you say our colonel did all those things, too?" Norton asked.  
The officer turned red, confirming the answer.  
"Yes," Paulie said, his tone warning the others that they were treading dangerous ground.  
"So, where will you be going to college?" Harrison asked, hoping to turn the talk before another argument erupted between the two Ironhorse's.  
The young man cast a quick glance at his uncle, then said softly. "I'm not going to college."  
"What?!" Ironhorse nearly bellowed, his fork slamming down.  
"Not college," Paulie snapped.  
"What are you going to do?"  
Paulie almost told him the truth, but he just couldn't. "I'm going to Annapolis."  
"The Navy?!"  
Paulie pushed back his chair and stood. "Excuse me, I need some air." He looked to Mrs. Pennywirth. "It was a fine dinner. Thank you." With that he turned smartly and left the rest of them in silence.  
"And just what's wrong with the Navy?"  
He looked at the microbiologist, confusion and frustration evident in the wrinkles across his forehead. "Nothing, really, it's just—"  
"You shouldn't be so mean to him," Debi snapped, startling the adults. As quickly as Paulie, she was gone.  
"What did I do?" Ironhorse demanded of the empty chairs. His three team members had no answers.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Outside Paulie made a snap decision. This wasn't working out at all like he'd planned. He wanted his uncle's understanding, and his approval. He wanted to tell him he was going to West Point. He was going to succeed. Paul Michael Ironhorse was going to be as good an officer and warrior as his uncle, but he couldn't tell Paul that. All the frustration, anger, and pain he'd felt in Oklahoma welled up in him each time he tried to tell the man the truth.  
"Are you leaving?"  
Paulie turned to find Debi watching him closely. "I think I should. This isn't the way I wanted to meet my uncle."  
"The Colonel's nice. Really," she added when the young man's eyebrows rose to echo Ironhorse's characteristic questioning expression. "He just gets… cranky. That's what Norton and Harrison call it, anyway."  
"I should go."  
"Will you come back to visit?"  
"I don't think so."  
"Can't you wait until tomorrow?"  
"He can wait." The two teens turned to find Ironhorse standing nearby. "Paulie, we need to talk."  
"Look," the younger Ironhorse said, "I can leave if I want to. You can't keep me here."  
"I'm afraid I have to. Come inside and I'll explain."  
"You can go to hell."  
He took three steps toward his motorcycle before the colonel reached him, a hand closing around his arm.  
Paulie stopped. "Let go of me."  
"Please."  
Several emotions warred inside the younger man, but he finally nodded. Ironhorse released him. Together the three returned to the Cottage, the two Ironhorses disappearing into the soldier's office for a second time. It was after midnight when they finally emerged.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

10 August 1989

By mid-morning the next day, Paulie had a new respect for the people at the Cottage and whatever it was they were doing. Up before the rest of the house, he had dressed and gone outside to watch the sunrise. Several minutes later his uncle appeared and invited him along on the soldier's morning run.  
For fun, Ironhorse took the route that included the Omega Squad obstacle course. The young man grinned when he saw it, immediately challenging his uncle to a race.  
Paul thought a moment, then accepted.  
It was reasonably close, the officer crossing the marker a few paces ahead of his nephew. The boy was a fine athlete. But the Navy?  
After breakfast Paulie was passed along to Harrison, who decided a tour of the Cottage was in order. Afterward they ended up in the scientist's office so Blackwood could talk to the young man alone. Paulie was very much like the colonel, but Harrison found a spark of whimsy in the boy that the astrophysicist appreciated. Together they headed down to Norton's lab.  
"Wow, I've never seen anything like this. The labs at school are pretty pathetic."  
"Well, this baby's something," Drake said, motioning for the boy to sit down.  
Paulie and Norton fell into a conversation that didn't end until Ironhorse arrived to drag them all up for lunch. Reluctantly the young man left the computer terminal to follow the others upstairs. Blackwood grinned at Suzanne as they each headed for the kitchen to help Mrs. Pennyworth carry out the food. It was nice to have such a warm feeling in the house to relieve the stress of the war they fought.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

A sparrow finds freedom, beholding the sun.  
In the infinite beauty, we're all joined as one…

12 August 1989

The Blackwood Project members, Debi, and Paulie sat around the dining room table, eating breakfast in a strained silence. It was the young man's last day with them. Debi finally shattered the silence. "Can we go on a picnic today, a going away party?"  
Suzanne looked up from her coffee and smiled at her daughter. The girl was going to miss having Paulie around. And for the first time in a long while the microbiologist worried about her daughter's social development. "Sounds like a good idea to me."  
"Me, too," Norton added. "And, if we're breaking out of here for a while, I could use a trip by an electronics store to pick up some odds and ends."  
"Great idea!" Harrison enthused. "We can stop by the mall, hit the store, pick up some lunch and take it down to the beach."  
"People—" the colonel started to interrupt, but Paulie cut him off.  
"I should grab a few things for the trip back, and maybe something for Mom and Grandma, too. Mom still sounded pretty mad when I talked to her last night."  
"Please, Colonel?" Debi added.  
Ironhorse avoided the excitement in the girl's eyes. It was clear she was developing a crush on his nephew. However, the rest of the team had sounded as delighted about the idea as she did.  
"I suppose it could be arranged."  
A cheer issued from the group.  
"But, the Omegans are coming along."  
Blackwood leaned over and patted the soldier on the arm. "All right, Colonel, but just remember, we're supposed to be relaxing. It's a day off. Enjoy it."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The mall was not something Ironhorse ever enjoyed. Watching the others made it bearable. Debi and Paulie walked slightly ahead of the rest, talking nonstop. What kids that age found to talk about remained a mystery to the officer, but he was pleased they got along as well as they did. Suzanne didn't seem overly concerned about her daughter's attentions either. Paulie was a good kid, and before long he'd be an equally good man.  
Reaching the center of the mall, Harrison and Norton broke off from the rest of the Project members, planning to raid the electronics warehouse and gourmet coffee shop before meeting to pick up the food. Three Omegans followed them. Suzanne, with Coleman and Stavrakos in her wake, headed off to find a much needed field jacket – her last sacrificed to the aliens during a firefight. Ironhorse and Derriman remained with the two teenagers.  
Debi watched her mother go before turning to the colonel and flashing her best conspiratorial smile. "Can we go get some cookies from the Cookie Factory?" she asked. "I want to take some oatmeal-raisin-macadamia nut cookies back for Mrs. Pennyworth."  
The two soldiers exchanged amused glances. It was no secret that Miss Debi McCullough had a soft spot for chocolate chip cookies.  
"Oh, I think that might be arranged," Ironhorse said, nodding in the appropriate direction. "We have about an hour before we meet everyone for lunch. Just be sure you save the cookies until after we eat or your mother will have my hide."  
"Okay," the blonde agreed, grinning at Paulie.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

After picking up the cache of goodies, the foursome began a leisurely stroll in the direction of the food Mercatto, Debi stopping to pull them into several stores along the way. Paulie managed to find the items he wanted for the trip back to Oklahoma, and the gifts for his mother and grandmother.  
Ironhorse was almost enjoying himself. Watching the young man, he admitted to himself that he would be sorry to see Paulie leave the following morning. Having been something of an outsider in his own family, Ironhorse found the interactions with his nephew both refreshing and fulfilling.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

They had almost reached the Mercatto when Ironhorse saw her – the market-analysis-graduate-student-from-hell. She'd become a regular at the mall since before Christmas and the soldier had already fallen victim to her surveys twice before.  
The officer stiffened as the young woman approached them with her smile and clipboard at the ready.  
Not another survey, Grandfather, the Colonel thought. Just what I needed. How does the woman do this?  
"Hi! Good to see you again," the redhead said cheerfully. "Are any of you part of the same family?"  
Debi smiled back and pointed to the Paulie and Ironhorse. "They are."  
"Oh?" the woman said, her attention now focused on the two men. "Father and son?"  
"He's my uncle," Paulie corrected, his cheeks coloring slightly.  
Derriman quickly sidestepped to avoid having to deal with the woman and received an annoyed glare from his commander. No doubt Ironhorse wished he'd done the same thing. With a grin, the sergeant sat down on one of the many benches to watch. He'd been caught twice before too; this time it was going to be up to the colonel to serve the cause of consumer research.  
"And what about you?" the woman asked Debi. "Are you related to either of these handsome men?"  
It was Debi's turn to blush. "Not exactly. I mean, we're not related, but he's kind of like an uncle to me, too."  
"I see," the woman said, quickly jotting down a series of checkmarks. "That's wonderful. It's a combination I haven't had today. A pseudo-uncle."  
"What are you doing?" Debi asked, her thirteen-year-old curiosity engaged.  
Ironhorse rolled his eyes heavenward. They were stuck now.  
"Well, I'm helping several companies try to uncover how family relationships influence how you see their product packaging. Would the three of you be willing to help us out?"  
Debi turned to look at the colonel. He checked his watch. They had twenty minutes before the lunch rendezvous. He shrugged. After all, what was an uncle to do?  
"Yeah," the blonde said. "What do we have to do?"  
The woman pushed back her shoulder-length red hair, then removed three five-by-seven index cards from her clipboard. "All you have to do is come on in to our store over here, look at three arrangements on the shelves and write down on these cards which is your favorite. Then the three of you as a group have to decide which is the best display – even if it doesn't match what you picked by yourself. Pretty easy, huh?"  
"That's for sure," Paulie said, his voice betraying his lack of faith in the validity of such a study.  
The threesome took the proffered cards and pencils the woman fished out of a satchel slung over her shoulder. With a nod to Derriman, Ironhorse followed the teens into the small room that was made up to look like the section of a supermarket isle. Three different arrangements of the same labeled cans and boxes sat waiting to be studied.  
"Just take your time, mark the cards, and that's it!"  
With that, the woman turned and left them alone, an off-key tune disappearing with her.  
Debi stared at the three choices for a moment and marked her card. Turning to the colonel, her forehead wrinkled and she swayed on her feet. Ironhorse reached out to steady her just as he felt his own senses began to waver.  
Panic erupted full blown and he reached for the battle baton at the same time as he started to call out for the waiting sergeant, but his knees buckled. He crumbled to the floor next to Debi and Paulie.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Derriman checked his watch. They were going to be late. Standing, he walked over to the store front and looked in. No one was in sight. That didn't surprise him since he'd seen them disappear behind a mock-up of a supermarket shelf earlier.  
Entering, the sergeant walked over to the structure and stuck his head around the corner, calling, "Colonel?"  
The space was empty except for the abandoned knife. A quick search of the small room turned up nothing. With a growing sense of dread, he reached for the mobile phone on his belt and dialed. Coleman answered.  
"We have a level three emergency," he said, giving directions to his location. That done, Derriman waited, his own anger at himself growing.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Sergeant, there was no way you could've known anything was wrong," Harrison said, trying to keep his own panic in check. "We've all been stopped by that woman before." He glanced over at Suzanne who was sitting down, her face pale, but the spark in her eyes was anything but weak.  
"What do we do now?" Norton asked, his gaze also sliding to the microbiologist.  
"We tear that store up and see if we can find anything," Suzanne supplied, pushing herself up.  
"I think she's right," Blackwood said, and the three Omegan sergeants nodded.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

I reach out before me, and look to the sky,  
Did I hear someone whisper, did something pass by…

The pounding in his head finally subsided enough to allow Ironhorse to piece together a chain of coherent thoughts. Fact one, he wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious, or conscious for that matter, but for whatever length of time it was, he'd been completely helpless.  
The pain in his skull made it impossible to do anything more than lie perfectly still. He allowed his eyes to crack open, taking in as much of his surroundings as he could without making it obvious that he was awake.  
Fact two, he was alone. After a momentary surge of panic over Debi and Paulie's whereabouts, the soldier's attention returned to his rapidly clearing headache. As quickly as the gas or drugs had knocked him out, it left his system.  
Enough pretending. Ironhorse sat up.  
The room was relatively large, twenty by twenty, he guessed, with no furniture to break up the space or provide a clue as to where he was being held. However, there were a few hints that his stay was not going to be pleasant. Set into two of the walls were large metal rings. Around each, blood stained the dirty white paint a dark red-brown. Two cameras whirred from their high corner mounts, and a series of overheard sprinklers ran down the center of the ceiling.  
Aliens, Ironhorse thought. But where were Debi and Paulie?  
Fear, guilt, and anger all coursed through the soldier as he began a thorough search of the room, but besides the single locked door, there was no way out.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Are we ready?" Xzoyan asked, walking over to watch their latest test subjects on the monitor.  
The children sat close together, talking, and the scientist paused momentarily to wish they had placed listening devices in the cells. She sighed. An oversight that could be corrected. This was all taking longer than she'd anticipated. Why were the humans so unpredictable?  
She forced her attention back to the man. Outwardly he was calmer than the earlier subjects, which intrigued the scientist. Did enough distance in genetic connections reduced the bond between adults and children? No, other 'uncles' had been more anxious than this man. His identification revealed that he was a part of the human's military. Perhaps he was simply too stupid to realize the danger of the situation he found himself in. Xzoyan was used to the stupidity of the military.  
The scientist frowned slightly and turned to her assistant. "Let's begin. Release the bio-agent."  
The alien, housed in the body of the young woman from the mall, nodded and pulled a lever.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Ironhorse heard the sound before the water began to rain down on him from the overhead sprinklers. Like being caught out in a heavy drizzle, the water quickly left the soldier soaked and uncomfortable.  
His anger mounting, the colonel prowled the room for several sweeps before a pain more powerful than his earlier headache forced him to his knees on the cold cement floor. Pressing his hands against his temples, fingers curling into the short black hair, Ironhorse tried to fight off the nausea that the torment elicited. Several minutes later, the pain passed as rapidly as it struck.  
Standing, the soldier kept his eyes closed to let the dizziness pass before he opened them to find himself in total blackness. "What the…" he said, raising his hand to an inch in front of his face. Nothing.  
Numb, he tried waving his hand in front of his eyes, squinting. Still nothing.  
Grandfather, help me.  
Before the fear could work itself into anger, a voice echoed into the abyss of Ironhorse's rapidly fraying patience.  
"Welcome, Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse, United States Army."  
"Who are you?" he demanded of the female voice.  
"That is unimportant. Let us just say that we are the ones who will one day rule this planet."  
Definitely aliens. But they had failed to recognize him as one of the Blackwood Project. "What do you want from me?"  
"We are running experiments – experiments that you are now a part of. Your sacrifice will help a superior people triumph."  
"That's your opinion," Ironhorse replied under his breath. "Turn on the light."  
There was a soft laugh. "Colonel, you are blind. That is the first part of our experiment."  
Several scenarios began to play through the soldier's mind, none of them good. A pressing sense of desolation welled up, but Ironhorse pushed it back. He'd deal with the facts later, right now he had to concentrate on staying alive and getting Debi and Paulie out of the Mor'taxans' hands.  
The female voice continued. "We are going to seed your atmosphere with this bio-agent. Wherever it is carried, it will fall from the skies with the rain, blinding all that come into contact with it."  
The scenario was horrifying – accidents on the freeways alone would kill thousands. The need to escape grew stronger. If this was the aliens' next plan, he had to get word to Blackwood and the others. Maybe they could find a way to neutralize the agent.  
"But this is only half the experiment."  
The sound of the door opening and several people entering echoed through the room, disorientating the soldier slightly. The garbled sounds of the alien's native speech assaulted his ears. There could be no doubt now.  
"Colonel!"  
"Debi?" Grandfather, give us strength.  
Ironhorse listened as the group split, then the grind of the metal rings… the dried blood… What were they planning?  
God, not the kids…  
"What're you doing?" he demanded of the disembodied voice.  
"We are studying the relationships between adults and their offspring. Tell me, Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse, which of these children is more important to you? The male who is of your genetic line, or the girl?"  
Ironhorse made no reply, his terror stilling the words he wanted to say to the monsters.  
"That is what we are going to find out."  
"They're children!" he finally said, at a loss to make any other argument.  
"But which is the child you are willing to die for? And which is the child you are willing to sacrifice the other for? That is our experiment. You must choose which is to live. If you do not choose, both will be killed. All you must do is step to the side of the room where the child to be spared is tied."  
"I— I can't," the soldier stuttered, his stomach balling into a tight fist of futility. Choose? There had to be something he could do to stop this nightmare. Frantically he sought for an answer, any answer.  
"You have no choice. If you do nothing, both die."  
"You can't let them hurt Debi," Paulie said.  
Ironhorse's head turned and he looked blindly in the young man's direction. The protectiveness in his voice surprised the soldier.  
"She's your responsibility. I'm not!"  
"No!" Debi yelled from the opposite side of the room.  
"You must choose now," the female voice commanded.  
The colonel's body began to tremble as he fought to take some sort of action, make a choice he could not make. Thoughts, moving too fast to be called coherent, raced through the soldier's mind. He was responsible for Debi, his oath demanding he protect her. It was his duty. Paulie was blood. He was nearly a man. He'd been through ROTC. He understood about duty. He was going to the Naval academy…  
With a low, frustrated growl Ironhorse took a half-step toward Debi, and stopped.  
"No!" she screamed.  
"Go!" Paulie countered. "It's your duty!"  
"Shut up!" the girl spat.  
"Paulie, I'm sorry," Ironhorse said, then started toward Debi. Her piercing scream was the last thing he heard as a gunshot rang out in the enclosed room and the officer fell toward the floor, unconscious.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Quite unexpected," the female scientist commented to her assistants as several of the soldier drones moved the two children back to their cell, and Ironhorse to a smaller room. "He chose one who is not connected to his genetic survival. And it was his 'responsibility,' his 'duty' to do so. We must explore this relationship closer."  
"What will we do next?" the assistant asked.  
"First we will administer the second dosage of the bio-agent. Then, he thinks the boy is dead. We will make him believe the girl is also dead."  
"And then, commander?"  
"Then we will bring her back. He will tell us of his duty, or we will kill her a second time. He will not want to face the same pain twice. He will tell us. Humans are at least predictable. I want to watch the girl's reaction, too. She may tell us what we want to know if he is too stubborn. I want her to watch. Perhaps if she feels toward him like a genetic offspring she will give us the information to ease his suffering."  
"You are wise, Commander."  
"I am a scientist, and despite what the soldiers might say, or even the Advocates, I am not stupid, nor so naive as to believe that this cannot be turned to our advantage. This planet will be ours, and it will be scientists who bring about the final victory."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

When Ironhorse woke to the same pitch blackness, gunshots echoed in his memory, and he felt a small part of his soul die. Paulie was gone. He had no doubt that the aliens had carried out their threat and killed the young man. Refusing to utter the words while still in his enemy's den, Ironhorse silently sang a death chant. Then he began to plan. He had to get Debi out. She could not be allowed to die as well.  
The same hissing began and a second rain fell from the overhead sprinklers. The stabbing agony in his head returned, forcing away his consciousness.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The rusty metallic sound of a doorknob turning broke through the pain and blackness, dragging Ironhorse back to the grey fog of his own haunted mind.  
"I have brought you someone to keep you company," Xzoyan said, motioning her two assistants forward.  
The slightly pudgy brunette, whose body the alien scientist now inhabited, grinned in anticipation as the pair passed, dragging an earlier abduction between them. The young victim, about Debi's age, had the same build and hair style as the blonde. The most startling difference was the girl's auburn hair and green eyes, but those were lost to the bio-weapon's blindness.  
"Where's Debi?" Ironhorse demanded.  
"Why, she's right here," Xzoyan almost cooed.  
"Debi?"  
The green-eyed girl struggled between the two alien-blended humans who held her, a soft whimper escaping from behind the duct tape over her mouth.  
"Leave her alone," he managed, his voice low with fear and rage.  
"We will leave her alone," Xzoyan said, her voice laced with amusement at his reaction. "We have no more need for her."  
A shot rang out in the small room, and the auburn-haired girl crumpled to the floor, a wasted heap of human potential.  
"No!" Ironhorse lunged in the direction of the shot.  
The two alien soldiers, not expecting the test subject to be a threat in his blinded condition, were shocked when he wrapped his fingers into the sleeve of a blended woman's shirt.  
The woman/alien whipped her arm away, but it was too late. Anger and passion fueling his reflexes, Ironhorse's elbow found her jaw, driving her head back with an accompanying crack of vertebrae giving away. He did not stop.  
Before her companion or the scientist could react, the colonel's arm wrapped around the worthless neck. He pressed forward only to find a range of motion that confirmed his success.  
"Stop him!" Xzoyan screamed at the male drone who stood next to the dead girl.  
With a swift kick the Mor'taxan caught Ironhorse in the ribs, thrusting him back against the wall of the cell. Reaching down, he dragged the remains of his dead comrade out of the room as she began to decompose into a pool of frothing slime and human tissue.  
"You may have killed one of mine, Paul Ironhorse, but your precious child is dead." With that, the scientist stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her and leaving Ironhorse alone with the body.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Debi stood with what she knew was an alien, watching the scene play out on the other side of the window. Tears ran silently down her cheeks, but she made no sound to give away her feelings. Samantha was dead.  
Fourteen and frightened, Sam had been in the cell next to Debi and Paulie's. She and her mother had been prisoners for three days before the woman was killed. Sam couldn't remember how long ago that had been.  
As soon as they were alone, Debi decided the younger Ironhorse needed to know what could be happening, and explained about the work being done at the Cottage. She knew they had to escape or end up dead, just like Mr. Kensington. Now she wasn't sure. Maybe it was too late. Samanatha was dead, Paulie was locked up, and who knew what the aliens had planned for her.  
She remembered her mother explaining how the invaders took over human bodies, and wondered if she was old enough to be a host. The thought made her feel sick.  
The female scientist returned to join Debi and her guard.  
"Well, Debi McCullough, it appears that your Colonel Ironhorse failed in his duty to protect you."  
"He did not!" she shot back.  
"He thinks he did. That is all that matters," Xzoyan said, watching the girl's expression as she viewed what was transpiring beyond the glass.  
Ironhorse groped slowly toward Samantha's body. Reaching down, he waved his hands back and fourth for a moment until he brushed the girl's hair, then, reaching out, he gently picked her up, cradling the body in his arms.  
Feeling for a pulse, the soldier ignored the warm blood that trickled down his arm. When he found no flutter in the girl's neck, he lowered his head to her chest, straining to hear even the faintest beat. Nothing.  
Closing his eyes, the soldier rocked the corpse slowly from side to side, stroking the blood-matted hair. "I'm sorry, Debi," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."  
The pain on the man's face sped the tears rolling down Debi's cheeks, but she was too angry to speak.  
The scientist continued to watched her carefully. "You can end his torment. Tell me about his duty to protect you and I will take you to him. He will know you are alive and his suffering will end."  
Debi glared at the woman. "I'm not telling you anything. You're going to kill us anyway! Why are you so mean to him?"  
"You are a perceptive child. Still, wouldn't you like to make his last hours less painful? Tell me about his duty."  
"You can kill me, but I won't tell you anything!"  
The scientist motioned for another of the drones to take Debi back to her cell. These humans could be a particularly stubborn group.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Debi's gaze flashed over the empty hallways as she was escorted back to the small cage that she and Paulie occupied. There had to be a way to escape. There didn't appear to be that many aliens around, but they were a lot stronger than the girl expected. Her escort's grip bit into her arm much deeper than a real woman's could. But they didn't seem to like bright light too much. Even the overhead bulbs had been removed from the hallway, casting their prison into perpetual gloom. She tried to remember what her heroes from films and TV might do in a situation like this, but nothing sprang to mind.  
She saw Paulie standing next to the cell door. The blonde escort's brow furrowed. The expression on the young man's face was unreadable, but she could sense that he was going to try something. When they reached the door he looked pointedly at Debi. He was telling her to be ready. She nodded slightly.  
The woman removed the lock key. "Move away," she told Paulie.  
He started to take a step back, then rushed as the woman opened the door to force Debi inside. Catching the blended human just below the ribs with his shoulder, he forced her back against the wall with a resounding crash.  
"Run!" he yelled at Debi as he lunged away. A sucking sound proceeded the alien's third arm exploding from the human host's chest. Debi sprinted past the Mor'taxan, but the woman was faster than the girl anticipated. With a thrust, the Mor'taxan grabbed the girl's shirt.  
Struggling to get free, Debi felt the three-digit hand close around her wrist. She screamed.  
Paulie slid to a stop. He only managed two steps back before the youngster shrieked, "No! Get help!"  
For a moment the young man was torn. He didn't want to leave Debi and his uncle, but he also realized that he might be their only chance for a rescue. With a groan, he turned and ran down the hall, hoping it led to freedom.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Xzoyan continued watching Ironhorse as he held the body of the dead girl, trying to decide how she could uncover the essence of his relationship to the two human children. Humans were more complex than the Advocates realized, and their relationships were acutely unpredictable and hard to manipulate in a reproducible manner. Even the way they cared for their dead differed greatly one to the other.  
Ironhorse finally stood and carried 'Debi' to a corner of the room. After laying her there, he slipped his thin cotton jacket off and draped it over the girl's face. Then, sitting on the floor next to the body, his knees drawn up, arms wrapped protectively around them, he rocked slightly from side to side, chanting something faintly under his breath.  
A death ritual of some sort, the scientist reasoned. Still it did not tell her why he was bound to protect the girl. Were there pacts among certain humans? Were there other arrangements like this one? How many? And why?  
"Commander, the male child is attempting to escape!" one of her assistants panted as it stumbled into the observation room.  
"Inform commander Xaxalon. That is his concern. He is in charge of security."  
"It has already been done, Commander. The soldiers are searching for the boy now."  
"Then do not bother me!"  
"I am sorry, Commander." The drone stepped out of the room.  
Xzoyan cursed softly in her native tongue. The mission was deteriorating and it was clearly Xaxalon's fault. He and his drones were incompetent of even securing children. It was time to move to a new location. Perhaps there she would discover some clue that would allow her to control the reactions between the humans and their young. If they could just find a way to turn one group against the other, the annihilation of the human race would be assured.  
If it were not for what the humans called emotions, Xzoyan was sure it would be a much easier process. Still, she hated having to sacrifice this specimen before she had his secrets.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Paulie pressed back into the shadows of several stacks of large cardboard boxes. Once he escaped from the area of the cells, he found himself in an immense, dimly lit warehouse. Several men and women, aliens, he reminded himself, moved around the floor space, trying to find him. Searching for a better place to hide, he noticed several of the boxes on a nearby pallet had been damaged. He moved closer, trying to keep to the shadows.  
Reaching in, he drew out what appeared to be a roll of polyester tatting like he'd seen his mother and grandmother use to fill their home-made quilt comforters. Shoving his arm into one of the ragged tears, Paulie felt the material give way easily. The echoing footsteps of the aliens grew louder, and the young Ironhorse wriggled past the tear. Reaching out, he pulled the edges back together as best he could to reduce the apparent size of the hole, then eased himself as far back into the substance as possible and waited.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

As the river runs freely, the mountain does rise,  
Let me touch with my fingers and see with my eyes…

13 August 1989

Suzanne sat on the couch, her face pale. In her hands she gripped a rapidly cooling coffee cup, but she had no desire to drink the usually appealing staple. Harrison paced in front of the fireplace, trying to think of something reassuring to say and coming up blank. The sound of Norton approaching in his motorized wheelchair caused both scientists to look up, their expressions expectant.  
"Before you ask, I have zip. Nada," the black man said, waving his hands in front of his face in a gesture of defense.  
"Great," Blackwood mumbled.  
Suzanne sighed and leaned back against the couch. "They're gone."  
"No, they're not, Suzanne," Drake argued. "I can't believe that. I won't. Not until we see some proof. We can't count the big guy out, and if he's okay, then so are Debi and Paulie." He looked to Blackwood to back him up, but the astrophysicist appeared to be on her side.  
It had been eighteen hours since the threesome had disappeared from the mall. An all-out search by the Omegans had turned up nothing useful. They knew the aliens were involved, the residual traces of radiation in the mock store giving the Mor'taxans away. Norton had turned up a series of unusual family disappearances, all seemingly unrelated, on the National Crime Network. The abductions were all confined to the Pacific northwest, northern Nevada, and northern California. Derriman confirmed that some of the questions the solicitor had asked dealt with the threesome's family relationships. The clincher came when they discovered that the grad-student had also failed to report for her evening shift at a local pub.  
They had the pieces, but still couldn't make sense out of the picture it created. If they didn't get something soon, it was going to be too late. The only reason General Wilson hadn't already evacuated them from the Cottage was Blackwood's stubborn insistence that they remain the promised twenty-four hours, or until some news arrived.  
The phone ringing in the anxiety-tight room caused all three of the Project members to start. Harrison reached the instrument first. "Blackwood," he said into the receiver.  
"Doctor, we just got a call from the Ft. Streeter switchboard. The Colonel's nephew called the post to request help. He said they were being held by aliens," Derriman explained. "The Omega detachment on base has been activated and they're on their way to the location the kid gave us."  
"We'll meet you outside," Harrison said, hanging up. "Let's go."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

From a safe location near the Cloverdale warehouse, the three Project members watched from the van as the Omegans deployed, moving under the commands issued by Sergeant Coleman. Derriman stayed near the van with several of the squad members to provide security, and monitored the deployment.  
After the signal that indicated the troops were in place, Coleman keyed the mike, saying, "Team leaders, this is Apple Two. Go!"  
There was a flurry of activity, and the muffled, distant sound of automatic weapon fire. A commotion nearby halted the initial assault. Derriman was ready to send some of the security detail to check out the situation when they were all surprised to see two soldiers escorting Paulie over to them.  
"He's clean on the Geiger," Stavrakos said as he turned the young man over to Blackwood.  
"The Colonel, and Debi?" the team leader asked.  
"I don't know about my uncle. Debi…" He trailed off, avoiding any glances in Suzanne's direction.  
"What?" she demanded, reaching past the sliding door to grab his arm.  
"We tried to get away, but they grabbed her. I didn't want to leave her there, but I couldn't do anything against them alone."  
"You did the right thing," Harrison said, reaching out to grip Paulie's shoulder. "The thing now is to get in there and get them out."  
"My uncle's blind," Paulie added quickly. "It's some new weapon – a bio-agent, they called it. I don't know how it works."  
The three exchanged worried glances, but said nothing. Coleman trotted up to join them. Nodding at the structure, she filled them in. "The building perimeter's secure now. And it's definitely hot with aliens. I suggest you people stay back until we have a chance to get in and clear it out. It looks like they were just getting ready to leave. We also found some human bodies…"  
Blackwood shook his head. "No can do, Sergeant, we're going in. It seems they have a new weapon in there somewhere. A bio-agent and we need a sample if we can get it."  
"I'm going with you," Paulie said.  
"Absolutely not!" Harrison said, realizing he sounded just like the absent soldier. "Ironhorse would never forgive me if anything happened to you."  
"Dr. Blackwood, I know how to get through that warehouse, I can shoot, and I can defend myself. I'm going."  
The look in the young man's eyes told Blackwood that it would take someone rendering him unconscious or hog-tied to keep him from following them. "All right, but stay with me."  
"Give me a gun," Paulie told Coleman. The sergeant didn't look pleased, but she removed her sidearm and handed it over, wondering if this was what the colonel had been like when he was a young lieutenant. After a quick inspection of the weapon, Paulie nodded.  
Blackwood shook his head slightly, guessing this was how Ironhorse felt when he insisted on tagging along…

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Debi sat in her cell, waiting. She was tired, hungry, and mad. The aliens had returned twice with an offer of food and water, if she would tell them about the colonel. Twice she had refused. If they were still asking her, she reasoned, then he was still alive and refusing to tell them anything. As long as he refused, she would, too.  
The muffled sounds of gunfire rattled in the distance. Paulie made it! she thought.  
The soft creak of the door at the end of the hallway caught her attention. It was not the usual way the aliens traveled. Standing, she walked to the bars of her cage and squinted into the semi-darkness. Another sound echoed out of the darkness.  
They're trying to scare me, she thought. Or it is help? If it isn't…  
Moving back into her cell, she took the chair leg the young man had broken off the only piece of furniture in the room. The jagged splinters protruding from the widest end made it slightly better than a club. I'm not going to let the aliens take me out of here without a fight, she decided.  
She heard footsteps approaching and drew the piece of wood back like a baseball bat. Sergeant Derriman stepped in front of the bars. Debi dropped the weapon in her surprise at seeing the Omegan.  
Stavrakos stepped up to joining his NCO and winked at the girl. "Time to go, short-stuff," he whispered. Removing a thin metal lock pick, he had the door open faster than most people could using a key. He motioned Debi out.  
"That way," Derriman said, point back the way they'd come. "Your Mom's waiting with Dr. Blackwood and Mr. Drake."  
Debi grinned and disappeared into the darkness, Stavrakos tailing after her, his Uzi ready.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Debi!" Suzanne said in a hoarse whisper.  
The girl sprinted forward, wrapping the woman in a crushing hug. "Oh, Mom, it was so gross."  
"I know, Chicken," the microbiologist soothed, at the same time scowling at Harrison as he leveled a Geiger counter on the girl. "It's all over now."  
Debi looked over the woman's shoulder to see Harrison and Paulie. "I knew you'd get help," she said to the young man. He blushed slightly as the girl's attention refocused. "Mom, we've gotta get the Colonel. They're hurting him. They killed this other girl and told him it was me, and he—and he… He— It was really awful."

 

"Easy, Deb," Suzanne said, calming her daughter. "That's what the Omega Squad's doing right now. But you and I are going back outside to keep Norton company."  
"But, Mom—"  
"No buts, young lady." Looking over her shoulder at Harrison, Suzanne nodded toward the exit, still being covered by a series of soldiers. Blackwood nodded. Debi shouldn't be exposed to any more danger than she already had been. The pair headed back out, leaving Harrison and Paulie alone with the sergeant.  
"We have to find that bio-agent," the scientist told them.  
"This way," the young man said, leading the way further into the building, Blackwood and Stavrakos following.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Blackwood allowed the young man to lead them back to the holding cells before Stavrakos took over. Then, with the sergeant checking for any signs of trouble, the threesome made their way into the heart of the aliens' experiment. The sound of automatic gun fire accompanied them.  
Movement in the shadows caused Stavrakos to halt, pressing up alongside a shadow-draped wall. He nodded at the whisper of a closing door. "Company," he mouthed and motioned for them to follow him cautiously.  
Reaching the door, the Omegan listened. Inside echoed the suggestion of someone trying to accomplish something too fast for subtlety. He nodded that he was going in. Paulie gripped Coleman's M-9 tighter and glanced at Blackwood. The astrophysicist was obviously having second thoughts about bringing the boy along, but there was no time left for worry, only action.  
The sergeant gripped the doorknob, opened it, and dived through all in one practiced motion. Paulie and Blackwood followed. Inside, the scientist was startled from her activity, spinning to find three humans confronting her.  
A slender metal canister lay on the nearly cleared workbench and she lunged for it as Stavrakos's Uzi rose. Her fingers gripped the silver surface as a burst from the weapon ripped across her chest. An unearthly scream filled in the room, chilling each of the humans.  
Even as Xzoyan felt her Mor'taxan body begin to deteriorate, she concentrated on destroying the three humans who had interrupted her plans. Trembling fingers reached for the knob at the top of the container. She screamed a second time, a wave of slime cresting over her lips.  
Blackwood and Paulie lunged forward together, the sergeant calling for them to get back. Neither man listened.  
Harrison watched from of state of horrified detachment as the alien's fingers began to unthread the valve. His own hands were reaching out, ready to grab the bio-agent away from the rapidly decomposing enemy.  
Paulie's hand closed on the canister, Blackwood's catching next to it. They pulled, wrenching it free. Xzoyan fell.  
"We got it," the astrophysicist panted.  
Paulie nodded.  
"Let's go," Stavrakos said, pocketing his radio. "Coleman's got the building secure. Doctor, you're needed down the hall."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

The distant echo of gunfire roused the colonel from his stupor. How long it had been since the last time the aliens had come for him?  
It had been close the last time – too close. The female demanded to know the nature of his duty to Debi. He refused to respond until he heard the tearing sound that marked the emergence of the alien's third arm. Then he relented and told them a half-truth.  
"I'm in the Army. Debi's mother is a civilian member of an anti-terrorists team I provide security for. It's my job to keep the girl and the other civilians working for the Army safe."  
The female laughed. "You have failed miserably at your task." The soldier had made no reply. "Tell me more about these terrorists. They sound like humans I would like to meet."  
"That's need-to-know, and believe me, you don't."  
Now Ironhorse lay on the cold floor of the cell, too weak and sore to worry about moving. The blindness didn't bother him any more since he knew they planned to kill him. There would be no time to worry about the disability and its consequences. What did frighten him was the possibility that they would tap his memories before they ended his life. When the time came, he would have to force them to kill him swiftly, before they had a chance to probe his mind.  
A wave of agony rode over his thoughts, scattering them. The vague awareness of a growing fever drifted through his consciousness like a ghost. The constant pounding in his head increased, each beat of his heart sending a battering ram of agony though his skull. It was getting harder to breath and he trembled with a chill. The sound of the cell door whining open reached past the pain. They were back. This would be the last encounter.  
Hands turned him over. Ironhorse struck out, too weak to ward off the attacker. He fought harder, something catching at his wrists. Garbled words, like alien speech, brushed past him. Blackness erupted. Caught in the nowhere space between excruciating consciousness and the release of passing out, Ironhorse could no longer move. The hands returned, but they weren't the rough hands he'd expected. These hands were careful.  
Something touched his head. They were going to probe him! He twitched in an effort to move away. His chest constricted.  
"Colonel? Paul? For God's sake, breathe, man!"  
The voice was familiar, but the constant rushing in his ears made it hard to concentrate.  
"Come on, Ironhorse. Don't you die on me here!"  
There it was again. Who? He groaned.  
"That's it, come on, Paul. Come on back to us. Wake up."  
"Harr—"  
"Yes! It's all right, Colonel. We're here. The medic is on the way, just hang on, please."  
More hands touched him, and Ironhorse could not stifle the soft whimper when they lifted him onto a stretcher. His body, bruised and beaten, didn't hurt nearly as much as his throbbing skull, the slightest movement making it nearly unbearable.  
"Easy," he heard Blackwood say. "We're taking you home."  
"No," he panted. "Experiment… bio-weapon… don't know… contagious…" He didn't heard the astrophysicist's reply as the pain pressed him back into unconsciousness as they lifted the stretcher.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

14 August 1989

"Well?" Blackwood asked when Suzanne finally joined the rest of them in the Cottage living room. It seemed to the astrophysicist that they had been moving nonstop since they'd found the missing threesome fifteen hours ago.  
A call from the warehouse alerted their Omega contacts at Ft. Streeter that they would need a medical team at the Cottage when they arrived. Not to mention a complete isolation room ready for use. It was there, along with Dr. Gilbert, who was waiting impatiently for them. Two hours later Dr. Hawthorne arrived, the two doctors and Suzanne disappearing into the lab and basement isolation room with Ironhorse. They hadn't seen any of them since, until now.  
"First, he's not contagious in any way," Suzanne said, rubbing her tired eyes.  
"That's good news," Drake said, forcing his voice to remain cheerful.  
Suzanne nodded. "From what I've been able to figure out, the aliens used a genetically engineered bacterium to produce a rather unique chemical. It acts as a neural inhibitor, competing with other transmitters in the optical centers in the brain. I don't know how they've managed to target just that particular pathway, but they have. To put it in simple terms, the chemical blocks the information from being passed from the eyes to the brain so you don't see anything."  
"Can it be cured?" Blackwood asked, his voice tight.  
Suzanne nodded. "Dr. Hawthorne thinks we should be able to flush the organism and the chemicals from Paul's body, but we're going to have to use some pretty strong agents to do it. That's going to create some rather unpleasant side effects. Dr. Gilbert's trying to determine the dosages now and Dr. Hawthorne's working on a bacterin."  
"A what?" Norton asked.  
Suzanne smiled thinly. She was too used to the jargon being tossed around in the basement. "It's a suspension of attenuated bacteria that we can use to get Paul's body to manufacture antigens."  
"Then his own immune system will help fight the infection, right?" Blackwood asked.  
"You got it. The aliens apparently aren't concerned about making this permanent, just inducing a swift and complete blindness."  
"The initial chaos effect," Harrison said with certainty. "A hit and run operation."  
"But what about the Colonel?" Debi asked.  
Suzanne smiled at her daughter. She was seated on the couch next to Paulie, leaning into his shoulder. In return, the younger Ironhrose had a protective arm draped around the girl's shoulders. Her eyes were slightly unfocused and half-closed, the sedative the doctor had given her still not completely worn off.  
"Dr. Gilbert and Dr. Hawthorne are still with Paul, trying to establish the dosage," she said, until she realized she was repeating herself. "Most of the damage is superficial – bruises, cracked rib, mild concussion. The buildup of the chemical causes the headaches. He'll need to go into a hospital for a complete checkup once he's up to it."  
"But he's going to be okay?" Paulie asked.  
She nodded. "Ernst said he should be back to normal in a month or so. Physically. We can't anticipate the mental side-effects, if any, until he regains consciousness. And as far as his sight goes…" She trailed off and shrugged. "That's a wait and see thing. We're fairly confident that once the chemical's gone, it should return."  
"Now, that's good news," Blackwood said. The others nodded their agreement. "When can I see him?"  
"Uh, the doctor wasn't as clear about that."  
"What do you mean, Suzanne," Harrison pressed.  
The woman sank down into one of the open chairs with a sigh. "It's pretty obvious that Paul's been through a very traumatic experience. Dr. Gilbert said that he's been mumbling things…"  
"Things?" Harrison asked.  
"Things like maybe he thinks he's prisoner of war in Vietnam. Ernst wants to go slow. Paul's convinced Paulie and Debi are dead…" she said, deciding not to keep any of the truth from the youngsters.  
"Slow is not what Ironhorse needs," Blackwood argued. "He needs to know, now, that Debi and Paulie are all right, that the aliens are dead, that our mission here hasn't been compromised!"  
"Gilbert's a specialist, Harrison. Maybe we should listen to him."  
"Suzanne, we're specialists when it comes to the colonel."  
"The Doc's got a point," Norton agreed. "I think the big guy would want to know as soon as possible. Beside, you know the kind of guilt he's got to be feeling."  
"All right, all right," she surrendered. "I'm on your side. I'll go talk to Gilbert."  
"No," Harrison said, standing. "I will."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Dr. Ernst Gilbert was a private physician who worked for the Pentagon. He was responsible for treating agents and others who had top secret information in their heads whenever the government needed them pieced back together – mentally, physically, or both. Blackwood couldn't begin to ponder the possible secrets the man had overheard in his thirty plus years working for the government. The thinning curly-grey hair made the man look younger than his sixty-three years, and Harrison noted that the doctor was still in good physical shape. Clearing his throat, Blackwood waited until the man finished working over Ironhorse and turned before speaking.  
"Dr. Gilbert, may I have a word with you?"  
The man nodded. As tall as Harrison, they also shared the same intense blue eyes and easy going manner. Ernst followed the astrophysicist into the hallway. "What is it, Dr. Blackwood?"  
"Suzanne tells us that you want to go slow with the colonel once he wakes up."  
"That's my suggestion, yes. Do you disagree?"  
"Yes," Blackwood said emphatically. "The colonel isn't a man who likes to be coddled. He'll want to know exactly what happened. I think we should tell him that the kids are fine as soon as possible."  
The physician considered the man's request for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, I'll trust your understanding of the man, since all I've seen is a rather thin file." The look on the physician's face made it clear he wasn't happy about being kept in the dark concerning the majority of his patient's past history.  
"When do you think he'll come around?"  
"We're keeping him sedated while we give him the first couple rounds of antibiotics. It's not going to be easy. The levels we're looking at using will be pushing the toxicity limit. He'll be feverish, nauseous, and in a helluva lot of pain. I'd like to spare him as much of that as possible in the early period. We'll keep him sleeping until tomorrow morning."  
"Tomorrow?"  
"Dr. Blackwood, he can't get too agitated over something he's unable to think about. Colonel Ironhorse has a cracked rib, enough deep bruises to keep him sore for weeks, a mild concussion, and he's fighting a respiratory infection, probably due to the trauma weakening his resistance. But we're going to blow that right out of the water with the antibiotics. All in all, he's a damned lucky man. It could've been much worse. And by the way, Dr. McCullough was marvelous in helping isolate the engineered bacteria that's causing the blindness. I've never seen anything quite like it. An amazing bunch of terrorists you have."  
The comment made it clear that Gilbert knew something was up, but Blackwood hoped he had yet to pinpoint what it was.  
"Yes, they are," he acknowledged.  
"Why don't you and the others try to get some more rest yourselves? It's been a long two days for all of you."  
"Yes, it has."  
"Dr. Hawthorne and I will be staying with the colonel to monitor his progress as he adjusts to the drug therapy. If there's any change or trouble, your Mr. Drake has shown us how to use the intercom system to notify you."  
"Thank you, Doctor."  
"You're very welcome, Dr. Blackwood."  
"Please, call me Harrison."  
"Very well, Harrison. Now, go get some sleep."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

In the hearts of the children a pure love still grows,  
Like a bright star in heaven that lights our way home,  
Like the flower that shattered the stone…

14 August 1989

The atmosphere around the breakfast table was expectant. The Project members, Debi, and Paulie poked at their food in silence.  
Paulie had decided to stay until his uncle was back on his feet. After all, he knew what they were doing now, so there really wasn't any reason he should leave.  
"I lied to all of you," the younger Ironhorse said, breaking the silence.  
Four heads lifted and they stared at him.  
"I'm not really going to Annapolis. I'm entering West Point in June."  
The three adults stifled grins. "I hope you'll tell Ironhorse that before you leave," Blackwood teased gently. "I don't know if he could take the thought of his nephew attending the Naval Academy."  
Paulie smiled sadly. "I will. I should've told him the truth to begin with, but I didn't want him to think that I was trying to walk in his footsteps."  
"I think he'll be very proud of you," Suzanne said.  
Her regard for the young man had taken a leap forward. Not only had he managed to get help in time to save Debi and Paul, but he remained supportive of her daughter while Suzanne was forced into her lab to help determine the nature of the alien's latest weapon. The affection Paulie showed for Debi was genuine, she was sure, and something in his expression told her that her daughter was going to have a serious suitor once he finished West Point. Given what she'd seen, she wouldn't raise too many objections.  
"Not bad tracks to follow," Norton added softly.  
"I know," Paulie said.  
Dr. Gabriel emerging to join them stilled the conversation.  
"Any news?" Blackwood asked.  
The man nodded with a thin smile. "He's waking up. I thought one of you should be there."  
Harrison was up before the others could reply, and the physician nodded. Together they walked to the colonel's first floor bedroom.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Dr. Phoabae Hawthorne met them in the hall. The tall African woman was younger than Blackwood expected, but Suzanne had assured him that she was an outstanding bacteriologist. She was also a beautiful woman, and he caught himself staring.  
"Dr. Blackwood—" she began, but Harrison cut her off.  
"Please, it's Harrison. How is he?"  
"Better than I expected, to tell you the truth," she replied, her soft accent not entirely lost to several years of living in the United States. "The drug therapy is going quite nicely. Overnight we saw a drop of eight percent in the concentration levels. I suspect that is closer to twelve now."  
"However," Dr. Gilbert added. "The therapy's not pleasant. There are side effects."  
"Yes," Dr. Hawthorne nodded. "He's running a fever, but it's manageable. There are chills and sweats, nausea, some abdominal cramping, and flashes of severe pain in his head. Those should drop off over the next twenty-four hours, provided the decline in concentrations continue and we can lower the dosages accordingly."  
Blackwood nodded. He hated the fact that his friend had to endure the suffering, but if it would bring him back, whole and healthy, it was a necessary evil.  
"He can use the company," Dr. Hawthorne explained. "To keep him mind off the treatment and the blindness. But keep the visits short and try not to excite him. We want him to conserve his strength."  
"I'll see to it," Harrison assured them.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Blackwood could tell Ironhorse was nearing consciousness – the man's head rolled slightly from side to side, his eyes roaming sluggishly under the closed lids. Grabbing the straight-backed chair from the soldier's desk in the corner, he sat down next to the bed to wait. Dr. Gilbert excused himself, trusting that Blackwood would know what to say when his friend woke. And, if he needed help, Ernst would be just outside in the hallway.  
A soft groan, and the black eyes opened, their gaze unfocused.  
"Easy, Colonel. You're going to be fine," Harrison said reassuringly, then reached out to pat the soldier's arm.  
Ironhorse flinched, squinting automatically in an attempt to see who was there. "Blackwood?" he asked hoarsely.  
"The one and only," Harrison replied, determined to keep his voice cheerful. "And you're going to be just fine."  
"I— I can't see. The aliens, they—"  
"We know, Paul. Suzanne and the doctors the general sent have already isolated the cause and they're flushing it out of your system. That's why you probably feel like hell right now, but you should be back to normal before you know it."  
The last time Ironhorse had felt like this, he was in a VA hospital, recovering from surgery and a nasty infection that required antibiotics in such high levels they were nearly toxic. He was not looking forward to a repeat of that hell.  
Other fears surfaced. "They're going to seed the clouds with that stuff. Have to stop them—"  
"It's done," Blackwood assured the soldier, the despair in Ironhorse's voice frightening him. Was there more to the plot than they'd uncovered? He watched as his friend swallowed convulsively, probably trying to force back the nausea the heavy dosage of drugs caused. "Colonel, listen to me. Omega took care of all the aliens at the warehouse. They're all dead, and we destroyed the chemical agents we found."  
That seemed to satisfy the man, but the instant crevasse of melancholy Ironhorse fell into rivaled even the worst of Blackwood's depressions.  
"What is it?" Blackwood asked. "Colonel?"  
Ironhorse's body stiffened, and he sucked in a short breath through gritted teeth. "I didn't want them hurt. I— I tried, but—" A sharp cry cut off the rest of the sentence.  
"Colonel, what happened? Are you all right?"  
Ironhorse ground out the words as his free hand pressed tightly against his forehead. "Paulie… Debi… God, Harrison, they—"  
"They're fine," Blackwood said.  
Ironhorse groaned, his arm falling back onto the bed as the torture in his skull subsided again. The dark eyes opened, unseeing, but fixed on Blackwood's face. "That's impossible, Doctor," he panted. "I heard them shoot Paulie… and Debi…" He stopped, unable to explain how he had held the dead child in his arms.  
Blackwood's hand closed on Ironhorse's shoulder. He could feel the fever, and the muscles corded in response to the agony the man felt, both physically and emotionally. "Colonel, I swear to you, they're fine. Paulie managed to get away – with a little help from Deb, I might add. She's becoming quite a young woman. He called the Ft. Streeter number, they called us, and Omega led the charge in to get the three of you out. The aliens were in the process of packing up to leave. We got all of them. And the kids are both fine – a little shaken, and worried about you, but fine."  
"I— I don't— I want to see them."  
"Colonel, the doctor said you have to rest. The drugs they're running through your system are taxing, and—"  
"Now, Blackwood."  
"Colonel—"  
"Now!" the soldier snapped. Taking a deep breath, he waited for the abdominal cramps to ease, then sighed. "Please."  
Blackwood winced at the tone. "All right, I'll be right back, but they'll have to come in one at a time, and just for a couple of minutes. Gilbert's going to have my butt for this."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Ironhorse waited, growing more anxious as he did. Blackwood was right, whatever they were pumping through his system stripped away what was left of his energy. He hurt all over, although it was his head which throbbed the fiercest. However, there was a hint of grey in the center of his field of vision. Maybe he would see again after all.  
His thoughts returned to the youngsters... They were alive? How? He'd heard them die…  
He played each scene over in his mind. He had heard it, but he hadn't seen either body…  
An illusion? But why? Why did they want to know about the relationships between adults and children? The sounds of people approaching stalled the thoughts. The door to his room opened and someone entered.  
"Uncle?"  
"Paulie?" Ironhorse replied, his voice catching.  
The young man walked to the side of the bed and sat down in the chair Blackwood had vacated. He reached out and took Ironhorse's hand.  
"Are you all right?"  
"I'm fine," the young man said softly.  
The guilt threatened to suffocate him, but Ironhorse took a deep breath and forced himself to speak. "Paulie, I'm sorry. If there had been any other way."  
"You mean me and Debi?" Paulie asked.  
Ironhorse nodded.  
"You had to protect her. She's…" He trailed off, his cheeks going red.  
"What?"  
"She's special," he replied in a near whisper.  
Ironhorse allowed a grin to lift a corner of his mouth. Thank you, Grandfather. "Yes, she is. And it's my mission, my duty to protect her and the others here."  
"I know. You did what you had to. I would've done the same – I hope." Paulie shifted nervously in his chair. "I think she's meant for me."  
"Meant for you?"  
"When I went seeking vision, there were three. In one there was a woman. I couldn't see her face very clearly, but she had long blond hair. She was a warrior, too. I think she's Debi."  
Ironhorse listened to the young man's voice. He was sincere and the thought lifted his spirits. "I'm sorry you ended up in the middle of all this."  
"I think I'm glad I did." He shifted uncomfortably on the chair. "I lied to you before. I'm not going to the Naval academy. I'm entering West Point."  
"I know."  
"You know? How?"  
"No nephew of mine could possibly be that enamored with ships."  
Paulie chuckled and squeezed his uncle's hand. "I just didn't want you to think that I was tagging after you."  
"I wouldn't think that. You'll do fine."  
"I have a helluva incentive." A soft knock on the door interrupted. "That's Deb. She's pretty worried about you."  
Ironhorse nodded. "Blackwood told me you escaped. We'll talk more later. I want to hear about that. And, Paulie, I'm very proud of you."  
"I wouldn't have made it if Deb hadn't been there to distract that thing," he said softly as he opened the door to let the blonde in. "She saved my life," he finished as she passed, causing her cheeks to darken.  
"We got each other out," she stated emphatically.  
"Debi?"  
The girl paused for a moment, getting her first good look at the soldier, then, ignoring the IV and other medical gadgetry surrounding him, launched herself at the bed. Slowing only to be certain she didn't hurt the man further, Debi wrapped her arms around his neck and cried.  
Raising the arm not attached to tubing, he gripped the thin shoulder. "Hey, now, what's this?" Ironhorse asked gently. "I hear you're a hero."  
"I was so scared."  
Paulie stepped out of the room, drawing the door shut behind him.  
"So was I, sweetheart," Ironhorse whispered. "And it's perfectly normal to be scared in a situation like that."  
"You were scared?"  
"More than I've ever been before."  
"Why?" she sniffed into his shoulder.  
He took a ragged breath, the pressure she was putting on his chest making it difficult to breathe, but he refused to push her away. "Because it wasn't just me who was in danger, or my men or even Harrison, Norton, or your mother. Having you and Paulie in danger…" He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. It was getting hard to breathe and the drugs were causing him to shift between chills and hot flashes.  
"I know," she said, squeezing his neck before she pulled back far enough to ease the pressure on the man's chest. "I saw what they did."  
"Saw?"  
"When they killed—That was Samantha. She was from Redding, she said. She was afraid, too."  
The tears dropping onto his bare shoulder were warm, like the blood that had trickled down his arm while he held the girl's cooling body. He shivered, and Debi pulled the light cotton blanket up to cover his shoulders.  
"Mom says you're going to be fine, and you'll be able to see real soon. I'm so glad you're okay…" She leaned over, kissing his cheek. "I love you, Colonel."  
"I love you too, Debi." His voice was hoarse, and he coughed to clear his throat.  
"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered, taking a seat in the chair.  
"Of course. It'll be need to know, just between you and me," he told her, feeling his strength slip farther. He was fighting a losing battle with sleep.  
"It's about Paulie. I think he likes me."  
"Oh?" he asked, closing his eyes.  
"Do you think he likes me?"  
"Well, he is a little older than you are…"  
"He's only seventeen, and I'll be fourteen in a couple of months. That's not that much, is it?"  
The Colonel forced his eyes open. "No, I guess not." A small smile tilted the right side of his mouth.  
"Do you think he likes me?"  
"I think so."  
"Really?"  
"Yes."  
"Oh, good. I'm glad."  
"Why is that?"  
"Because I sort of like him, too."  
"I see," Ironhorse slurred. It's a good match, Grandfather.  
Suzanne opened the door and caught the end of the pair's conversation. With a smile she drew the door closed, then knocked before opening it again and looking in. "Hey, time to let Paul get some rest, Chicken."  
"Aw, Mom."  
"Come back later," Ironhorse told her.  
"Okay. Do you think it would be all right if I showed Paulie the horses?"  
"I think so… Suzanne?"  
"Sounds fine to me."  
Debi stood. "Get better."  
"I will."  
Suzanne waited until Debi had left before she entered and approached the bedside herself. "Thank you," she said softly.  
"For what?" Ironhorse managed. "She's a very brave… resourceful young lady… probably saved our lives."  
"For helping make her that way," she finished, leaning over and kissing the man's forehead. "And if my mother's instincts are worth anything, I think we're going to be related in about five years."  
She thought she saw Ironhorse smile before he said, "'S long as I'm not related to a Blackwood."  
Suzanne giggled. "Amen. Are you up to one more visitor? I have a certain computer genesis out here whose been waiting to say hello."  
"Sounds perfect."  
"I thought it might. Oh, and Harrison's in line after him, but you can fall asleep anytime. We'll understand. You need to get some rest before the next dose of antibiotics. I wish there was an easier way to do this, Paul."  
"'S okay. Blackwood's been in…"  
"Harrison's coming back to read to you. He thought it would help you relax so you could sleep."  
"Read to me?"  
"Humor him, you might even enjoy it."  
"What is it?"  
"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."  
"Suzanne, I'm tired enough. I don't think I'll need any help."  
She patted his arm. "Hang in there. It'll be over soon."  
Norton rolled in. "Hey, big guy, it's me, and guess who I found out here with a book tucked under his arm?"  
"Grandfather, give me strength," Ironhorse mumbled under his breath, but he couldn't stop the twitch that tilted his mouth into a contented grin.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

As the river runs freely, the mountain does rise.  
Let me touch with my fingers and see with my eyes.  
In the hearts of the children a pure love still grows,  
Like a bright star in heaven that lights our way home,  
Like the flower that shattered the stone.


End file.
